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LIBRARY of CONGRESS 
Two Cooles Received 

APN 22 1907 

Veoyrtffttt Entry 
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COPY B. 



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TO THOSE SEEKING REST. RECREATION. 
HEALTH, SPORT WITH ROD OR GUN. 
OR TO LIVE CLOSE TO AND TO STUDY 
NATURE IN ITS PRIMITIVE STATE. 
THIS BOOKLET IS DEDICATED 



Copyriglitfd iy07 by C. C. Garland 



INTRODUCTION 



Pages 5 to 3 1 of this booklet is an excerpt from " Ktaadn " and " The 
Maine Woods," published by Houghton, Mifflin & Co., and written by 
Henry David Thoreau, who visited Mt. Ktaadn (Katahdin) in August, 
1 846, and whose description of that trip was first published in 1 848. 

Thoreau, a close observer of nature and a writer of fine English diction 
and whose works become more and more valued as literary productions, was 
one of that eminent group of writers of his day, among whom are William 
Cullen Bryant, Edgar Allen Poe, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Ralph 
Waldo Emerson, John Greenleaf Whittier, Oliver Wendall Holmes, James 
Russell Lowell, Nathaniel Hawthorne, Margaret Fuller, Richard Henry 
Dana, George William Curtis and William Ellery Channing, most of whom 
were his close, personal friends. 

This excerpt only treats of that portion of Thoreau's Ktaadn trip com- 
mencing at Ambajejus Lake, to the top of the mountain, and back to the 
West Branch of the Penobscot, on his return journey. It is over a portion of 
this route that one journeys in visiting Debsconeag. The means of transporta- 
tion are much easier, quicker and cheaper today than were those of Thoreau's 
time, yet the grandeur of scenery and the wildness of the country remain 
about the same. 

Pages 33 to 40 of this booklet treat of the Debsconeag Outing Camps 
at Debsconeag, Ktaadn, Rainbow Lake and Hurd Pond, all located in the 
famous Ktaadn region. Full information giving particulars " how to get there," 
rates of board, transportation and all other desired informatian will be found in 
these pages. 

3 



Mt. Ktaadn 

IS .situitcd in Pistatacjuis County, between the West and East branch of the 
Penobscot l^ivcr, in the heart of Maine's unbroken wilderness. Unlike most 
large mountain peaks, Ktaadn stands alone; a view from it being unobstructed 
by other \\\v,\\ mount, uns. Many persons who have (limbed most of the 
high mountains of the world say that Ktaadn is not only the most interesting, 
but that a finer and more extended view can be obtained from it than from 
any other mountain on this continent, if not m the world. For a more minute 
descri()tion read what I horeau says of it herein. 

The easiest, quickest, best and cheapest way to get to Ktaadn, is to 
make Debsconeag your starting [)oint and to have our Mr. C. C. Garland, 
make all arrangements for you. (See Page 37.) 

Illustrations. 

No picture can do justice to these camps, it being practically impossible 
to take good photographs of them, owing to their high location. The camps 
and scenery about them must be seen to be appreciated. 




DEBSCONEAG FALLS 



"Ktaadn" by Thoreau 

" In the next nine miles, which were the extent of our voyage, and which 
it took us the rest of the day to get over, we rowed across several small lakes, 
poled up numerous rapids and thoroughfares, and carried over four portages. 
I will give the names and distances, for the benefit of future tourists. First, 
after leaving Ambejijis Lake, we had a quarter of a mile of rapids to the 
portage, or carry of ninety rods around Ambejijis Falls; then a mile and a 
half through Passamagamet Lake, which is narrow and river-like, to the falls 
of the same name, — Ambejijis stream coming in on the right; then two 
miles through Katepskonegan Lake to the portage of ninety rods around 
Katepskonegan Falls, which name signifies " carrying-place,"— Passamagamet 
stream coming in on the left ; then three miles through Pockwockomus Lake, 
a slight expansion of the river, to the portage of forty rods around the falls of 
the same name,— Katepskonegan stream coming in on the left; then three 
quarters of a mile through Aboljacarmegus Lake, similar to the last, to the 
portage of forty rods around the falls of the same name ; then half a mile of 
rapid water to the Sowadnehunk dead-water, and the Aboljacknagesic stream. 
This is generally the order of names as you ascend the river : First, the 
lake, or, if there is no expansion, the dead-water ; then the falls ; then the 
stream emptying into the lake, or river above, all of the same name. First we 
came to Passamagamet Lake, then to Passamagamet Falls, then to Passa- 
magamet stream, emptying in. This order and identity of names, it will be 
perceived, is quite philosophical, since the dead-water or lake is always at 
least partially produced by the stream emptying in above; and the first fall 
below, which is the outlet of that lake, and where that tributary water makes 
its first plunge, also naturally bears the same name. 

At the portage around Ambejijis Falls I observed a pork barrel on the 
shore, with a hole eight or nine inches square cut in one side, which was set 
against an upright rock ; but the bears, without turning or upsetting the barrel, 

Editor's Nutk:- Since Thoreau's time the spelling has been changed of many of 
the Indian names, which he enumerates. ,^, 

Katepskonegan has been corrupted into the word Debsconeag. 

Ka epskonegan lake as herein mentioned is now known as Debsconeag dead-water . 
Katet^skot egan fa Is, as Debsc.meag falls: Passamagamet lake, as Passamagamet dead- 
wa e?; I'ockwockomus lake, as Pockwockomus dead-water .A ...Ijacknagesicstreani, as 
Abol stream; .aboljacarmegus lake, as Abol dead-water; Aboljacarmegus falls, as Abol 
falls ; atjd IVturch brook (see page 13) as Katahdm stream. 




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had gnawed a hole in the opposite side, which looked exactly hke an enor- 
mous rat-hole, big enough to put their heads in; and at the bottom of the 
barrel were still left a few mangled and slabbered slices of pork It is usual 
for the lumberers to leave such supplies as they cannot conveniently carry along 
with them at carries or camps, to which the next comers do not scruple to 
help themselves, they being the property commonly, not of an individual, but a 
company, who can afford to deal liberally. 

1 will describe particularly how we got over some of these portages and 
rapids in order that the reader may get an idea of the boatman s life. At 
Ambe,i,is Falls, for mstance, there was the roughest path imaginable, cut 
through the woods; at f^rst uphill, at an angle of nearly forty-five degrees, 
over rocks and logs without end. This was the manner of the portage. We 
(\rst carried over our baggage, and deposited it on the shore at the other end; 
then, returning to the batteau, we dragged it up the h.ll by the painter, and 
onward, with frequent pauses, over half the portage. But this was a bunglmg 
way and would soon have worn out the boat. Commonly, three men walk 
over with a batteau weighing from three to five or six hundred pounds on 
their heads and shoulders, the tallest standing under the middle of the boat, 
which IS turned over, and one at each end, or else there are two at the bows 
More cannot well take hold at once. But this requires some practice, as well 
as strength, and is in any case extremely laborious, and wearing to the consti- 
tution, to follow. We were, on the whole, rather an invalid party and could 
render our boatmen but little assistance. Our two men at length took the 
batteau upon their shoulders, and, while two of us steadied it, to prevent it 
from rocking and wearing into their shoulders, on which they placed their 
hats folded, walked bravely over the remaining distance, with two or three 
pauses. In the same manner they accomplished the other portages. With 
this crushing weight they must climb and stumble along over fallen trees and 
slippery rocks of all sizes, where those who walked by the sides were contin- 
ually brushed off, such was the narrowness of the path. But we were fortun- 
ate not to have to cut our path in the first place. Before we launched our 
boat, we scraped the bottom smooth agam, with our knives, where it had 
rubbed on the rocks, to save friction. • , - 

To avoid the difficulties of the portage, our men determmed to warp 
up" the Passamagamet Falls; so while the rest walked over the portage with 
the baggage, I remamed in the batteau, to assist in warping up. We were 
in the midst of the rapids, which were more swift and tumultuous than 



soon 



any we had poled up, and had turned to the side of the stream for the pur- 
pose of warping, when the hoalmen, who felt some pride in their skill, and 
were ambitious to do something more than usual, for my benefit, as I surmised, 
took one more view of the rapids, or rather the falls; and, in answer to our 
question, whether we couldn't get up there, the other answered that he 
guessed he'd trv it. So we pushed again into tlic midst of the streim, and 
began to slruE;gle with the current. 1 sat m the middle of the boat to trim it, 
moving slightly to the right or left as it grazed a rock. With an uncertain and 
wavering motion we wound and bolted our way up, until the bow was actually 
raised two feet above the stern at the steepest pitch ; and then, when every- 
thing depended upon his exertions, the bowman's pole snapped in two ; but 
before he had time to take the spare one, which 1 reached him, he had saved 
himself with the fragment u{)on a rock ; and so we got up by a hair's breadth; 
and Uncle George e.xclaimed that that was never done before, and he had 
not tried it if he had not known whom he had got in the bow, nor he in the 
bow. if he had not known him in the stern. At this place there was a regu- 
lar portage cut through the woods, and our boatmen had never known a 
batteau to ascend the falls. As near as 1 can remember, there was a perpen- 
dicular fall here, at the worst place of the whole Penobscot River, two or 
three feet at least. 1 could not sufficiently admire the skill and coolness with 
which they performed this feat, never speaking to each other. The bowman, 
not looking Ijehind, but knowing exactly what the other is about, works as if he 
worked alone. Now sounding in vain for a bottom in fifteen feet of water, 
while the boat falls back several rods, held straight only with the greatest 
skill and exertion ; or, while the sternman obstinately holds his ground, like a 
turtle, the bowman springs from side to side with wonderful suppleness and 
dexterity, scanning the rapids and the rocks with a thousand eyes ; and now, 
having got a fjite at last, with a lusty shove, which makes his pole bend and 
(juiver, and the whole boat tremble, he gains a few feet upon the river. To 
i\d(\ ti) llir danger, the poles are liable at any time to be caught between the 
rocks, and wrenched out of their hands, leaving them at the mercy of the 
rapids, the rocks, as it were, lying in wait, like so many alligators, to catch 
tlwin 111 llirir teeth, and jerk them from your hands, before you have stolen an 
eflectual shove against their palates. f he pole is set close to the boat, and 
the prow is made to overshoot, and just turn the corners of the rocks, in the 
verv ti<th of llic rapids. Nothing but the length and lightness, and the slight 
drauv-'lit <i| ihi- baltcau, enables titrm to make anv headwav. The bowman 



must (juickly choose liis course; lliere is no time to deliberate- Frequently 
the boat is shoved between rocks where both sides touch, and the waters on 
either hand are a perfect maelstrom. 

Half a mile above this two of us tried our hands at poling up a slight 
rapid ; and we were just surmounting the last difficulty, when an unlucky rock 
confronted our calculations ; and while the batteau was sweeping round 
irrecoverably amid the whirlpool, we were obliged to resign the poles to more 
skillful hands. 

Katepskonegan is one of the shallowest and weediest of the lakes, and 
looked as if it might abound in pickerel. I he falls of the same name, where 
we stopped to dine, are considerable and quite picturesque. Here Uncle 
George had seen trout caught by the barrelful ; but they would not rise to our 
bait at this hour. Half-way over this carry, thus far in the Maine wilderness 
on its way to the Provinces, we noticed a large, flaming, Oak Hall hand-bill, 
about two feet long, wrapped round the trunk of a pine, from which the bark 
had been stripped, and to which it was fast glued by the pitch. This should 
be recorded among the advantages of this mode of advertising, that so, 
possibly, even the bears and wolves, moose, deer, otter, and beaver, not to 
mention the Indian, may learn where they can fit themselves according to the 
latest fashion, or, at least, recover some of their own lost garments. We 
christened this the Oak Hall carry. 

The forenoon was as serene and placid on this wild stream in the woods, 
as we are apt to imagine that Sunday in summer usually is in Massachusetts. 
We were occasionally startled by the scream of a bald-eagle, sailing over the 
stream in front of our batteau ; or of the fish-hawks, on w hom he levies his 
contributions. There were, at intervals, small meadows of a few acres on the 
sides of the stream, waving with uncut grass, which attracted the attention of 
our boatmen, who regretted that they were not nearer to their clearings, and 
calculated how many stacks they might cut. Two or three men sometimes 
spend the summer by themselves, cutting the grass in these meadows, to sell to 
the loggers in the winter, since it will fetch a higher price on the spot than in 
any market in the State. On a small isle, covered with this kind of rush, or 
cut grass, on which we landed to consult about our further course, we noticed 
the recent track of a moose, a large, roundish hole in the soft, wet ground, 
evincing the great si/e and weight of the aniinal that made it. They are fond 
of the water, and visit all these island meadows, swimming as easily from island 
to island as they make their way through the thickets on land. Now and 

10 



then we passed what McCauslin called a pokelogan, an Indian term for what 
the drivers might have reason to call a poke-logs-in, an inlet that leads no- 
where. If you get in, you have got to get out again the same way. These, 
and the frequent " run-rounds " which come into the river again, would 
embarrass an inexperienced voyager not a little. 

The carry around Pockwockomus Falls was exceedingly rough and 
rocky, the batteau having to be lifted directly from the water up four or five 
feet on to a rock, and launched again down a similar bank. The rocks on 
this portage were covered with the dents made by the spikes in the lumberers' 
boots while staggering over under the weight of their batteaux ; and you 
could see where the surface of some large rocks on which they had rested 
their batteaux was worn quite smooth with use. As it was, we had carried 
over but half the usual portage at this place for this stage of the water, and 
launched our boat in the smooth wave just curving to the fall, prepared to 
struggle with the most violent rapid we had to encounter. The rest of the 
party walked over the remainder of the portage, while I remained with the 
boatmen to assist in warping up. One had to hold the boat while the others 
got in to prevent it from going over the falls. When we had pushed up 
the rapids as far as possible, keeping close to the shore, Tom seized the 
painter and leaped out upon a rock just visible in the water, but he lost his 
footing, notwithstanding his spiked boots, and was instantly amid the rapids; 
but recovering himself by good luck, and reaching another rock, he passed the 
painter to me, who had followed him, and took his place again in the bows. 
Leaping from rock to rock in the shoal water, close to the shore, and now and 
then getting a bite with the rope round an upright one, 1 held the boat while 
one reset his pole, and then all three forced it upward against any rapids. 
This was " warping up." When a part of us walked round in such a place, 
we generally took the precaution to take out the most valuable part of the 
baggage for fear of being swamped. 

As we poled up a swift rapid for half a mile above Aboljacarmegus 
Falls, some of the party read their own marks on the huge logs which lay 
piled up high and dry on the rocks on either hand, the relics probably of a 
jam which had taken place here in the Great Freshet in the spring. Many of 
these would have to wait for another great freshet, perchance, if they lasted so 
long, before they could be got off. It was singular enough to meet with 
property of theirs which they had never seen, and where they had never been 
before, thus detained by freshets and rocks when on its way to them. 

11 




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Methinks that must be where all my property lies, cast up on the rocks on 
some distant and unexplored stream, and waiting for an unheard-of freshet 
to fetch it down. O make haste, ye gods, with your winds and rains, and 
start the jam before it rots ! 

The last half mile carried us to the Sowadnehunk dead-water, so called 
from the stream of the same name, signifying " running between mountains," 
an important tributary which comes in a mile above. Here we decided to 
camp, about twenty miles from the dam, at the mouth of Murch Brook and 
the Aboljacknagesic, mountain streams, broad off from Ktaadn, and about a 
dozen miles from its summit, having made fifteen miles this day. 

We had been told by McCauslin that we should here find trout enough ; 
so, while some prepared the camp, the rest fell to fishing. Seizing the birch 
poles which some party of Indians, or white hunters, had left on the shore, and 
baiting our hooks with pork, and with trout, as soon as they were caught, we 
cast our lines into the mouth of the Aboljacknagesic, a clear, swift, shallow 
stream, which came in from Ktaadn. Instantly a shoal of white chivin 
{Leucisci pulchelli), silvery roaches, cousin-trout, or what not, large and small, 
prowling thereabouts, fell upon our bait, and one after another were landed 
amidst the bushes. Anon their cousins, the true trout, took their turn, and 
alternately the speckled trout, and the silvery roaches, swallowed the bait as 
fast as we could throw in ; and the finest specimens of both that I have ever 
seen, the largest one weighing three pounds, were heaved upon the shore, 
though at first in vain, to wiggle down into the water again, for we stood in 
the boat ; but soon we learned to remedy this evil ; for one, who had lost his 
hook, stood on shore to catch them as they fell m a perfect shower around 
him — sometimes, wet and slippery, full in his face and bosom, as his arms 
were outstretched to receive them. While yet alive, before their tints had 
faded, they glistened like the fairest flowers, the product of primitive rivers ; 
and he could hardly trust his senses, as he stood over them, that these jewels 
should have swam away in that Aboljacknagesic water for so long, so many 
dark ages; — these bright fluviatile flowers, seen of Indians only, made beauti- 
ful, the Lord only knows why, to swim there ; I could understand better for 
this, the truth of mythology, the fables of Proteus, and all those beautiful sea- 
monsters, — how all history, indeed, put to a terrestrial use, is mere history ; but 
put to a celestial, is mythology always. 

But there is the rough voice of Uncle George, who commands at the 
frying-pan, to send over what we've got, and then you may stay till morning. 

13 



The pork sizzles and cries for fish. Luckily for the foolish race, and this 
particularly foolish generation of trout, the night shut clown at last, not a little 
deepened by tli<- dark side of Ktaadn, which, like a permanent shadow, 
reared itself from the eastern bank. Lescarbot, writing in I 609, tells us that 
the Sieur Champdore, who, with one of the people of the Sieur de Monts, 
ascended some fifty leagues up the St. John in 1 608, found the fish so plenty, 
"c|u'en mettant la chaudiere sur le feu ils en avoient pris suffisamment pour eux 
disner avant (jue I'eau fust chaude." Their descendants here are no less 
numerous. So we accompanied Tom into the woods to cut cedar-twigs for 
our bed. While he went ahead with the axe and lopped off the smallest 
twigs of the flat-leaved cedar, the arbor-vitae of the gardens, we gathered 
them u[), and returned with them to the boat, until it was loaded. Our bed 
was made with as much care and skill as a roof is shingled ; beginning at the 
foot, and laying the twig end of the cedar upward, we advanced to the head, 
a course at a time, thus successfully covering the stub-ends, and producing a 
soft and level bed. For us six it was about ten feet long by six in breath. 
This time we lay under our tent, having pitched it more prudently with 
reference to the wind and the flame, and the usual huge fire blazed in front. 
Supper was eaten off a large log, which some freshet had thrown up. This 
night we had a dish of arbor-vitae, or cedar-tea, which the lumberer sometimes 
uses when other herbs fail, — 

"A quart of arbor-vitae. 
To make him strong and mighty," 

but I had no wish to repeat the experiment. It had too medicinal a taste for 
my palate. There was the skeleton of a moose here, whose bones some 
Indian hunters had picked on this very spot. 

In the night 1 dreamed of trout-fishing ; and, when at length I awoke, it 
seemed a fable that this painted fish swam there so near my couch, and rose to 
our hooks the last evening, and I doubted if I had not dreamed it all. So I 
arose before dawn to test its truth, while my companions were still sleeping. 
There stood Ktaadn with distinct and cloudless outline in the moonlight ; and 
the rippling of the rapids was the only sound to break the stillness. Standing 
on the shore, I once more cast my line into the stream, and found the dream 
to be real and the fable true. The speckled trout and silver>' roach, like fly- 
ing-fish, sped swiftly through the moonlight air, describing bright arcs on the 
dark side of Ktaadn, until moonlight, now fading into daylight, brought satiety 
to my mind, and (he minds of my companions, who had joined me. 

H 



By six o'clock, havins^ mounted our packs and a good blanketful of trout, 
ready dressed, and swung up such baggage and provision as we wished to 
leave behind upon the tops of saplings, to be out of the reach of bears, we 
started for the sutimit of the mountain, distant, as Uncle George said the boat- 
men called it, about four miles, but as I judged, and as it proved, nearer four- 
teen. He had never been any nearer the mountain than this, and there was 
not the slightest trace of man to guide us farther in this direction. At first, push- 
ing a few rods up the Aboljacknagesic, or " open-land stream, " we fastened our 
batteau to a tree, and traveled up the north side, through burnt lands, now 
partially overgrown with young aspens and other shrubbery ; but soon, re- 
crossing this stream, where it was about fifty or sixty feet wide, upon a jam of 
logs and rocks, and you could cross it by this means almost anywhere, — we 
struck at once for the highest peak, over a mile or more of comparatively open 
land, still very gradually ascending the while. Here it fell to my lot, as the 
oldest mountain-climber, to take the lead. So, scanning the woody side of 
the mountain, which lay still at an indefinite distance, stretched out some seven 
or eight miles in length before us, we determined to steer directly for the base 
of the highest peak, leaving a large slide, by which, as 1 have since learned, 
some of our predecessors ascended, on our left. This course would lead us 
parallel to a dark seam in the forest, which marked the bed of a torrent, and 
over a slight spur, which extended southward from the main mountain, from 
whose bare summit we could get an outlook over the country, and climb 
directly up the peak, which would then be close at hand. Seen from this 
point, a bare ridge at the extremity of the open land, Ktaadn presented a 
different aspect from any mountain 1 have seen, there being a greater propor- 
tion of naked rock rising abruptly from the forest ; and we looked up at this 
blue barrier as if it were some fragment of a wall which anciently bounded the 
earth in that direction. Setting the compass for a northeast course, which was 
the bearing of the southern base of the highest peak, we were soon buried in 
the woods. 

We soon began to meet with traces of bears and moose, and tho^e of 
rabbits were everywhere visible. The tracks of moose, more or less recent, 
to speak literally, covered every square rod on iUc sides oi the mountain ; and 
these animals are probably more numerous there now than ever before, being 
driven into this wilderness, from all sides, by the settlements. The track of a 
full-grown moose is like that of a cow. or larger, and of the young, like that of 
a calf. Sometimes we found ours(>lvcs Ir.welinu; in faint paths, which they had 

16 



made, like cow-paths In the woods, only far more indistinct, being rather open- 
ings, affording imperfect vistas through the dense underwood, than trodden 
paths ; and everywhere the twigs had been browsed by them, clipped as 
smoothly as if by a knife. The bark of trees was stripped up by them to the 
height of eight or nine feet, in long, narrow strips, an inch wide, still showing 
the dintinct marks of their teeth. We expected nothing less than to meet a 
herd of them every moment, and our Nimrod held his shooting-iron in readiness ; 
but we did not go out of our way to look for them, and, though numerous, 
they are so wary that the unskillful hunter might range the forest a long time 
before he could get sight of one. They are sometimes dangerous to encounter, 
and will not turn out for the hunter, but furiously rush upon him and trample 
him to death, unless he is lucky enough to avoid them by dodging round a 
tree. The largest are nearly as large as a horse, and weigh sometimes one 
thousand pounds ; and it is said that they can step over a five-foot gate in 
their ordinary walk. They are described as exceedingly awkward-looking 
animals, with their long legs and short bodies, making a ludicrous figure when 
in full run, but making great headway, nevertheless. It seemed a mystery to 
us how they could thread these woods, which it required all our suppleness to 
accomplish, — climbing, stooping, and winding, alternately. They are said to 
drop their long and branching horns, which usually spread five or six feet, on 
their backs, and make their way easily by the weight of their bodies. Our 
boatmen said, but I know not with how much truth, that their horns are apt to 
be gnawed away by vermin while they sleep. Their flesh, which is more 
like beef than venison, is common in Bangor market. 

We had proceeded on thus seven or eight miles, till about noon, with 
frequent pauses to refresh the weary ones, crossing a considerable mountain 
stream, which we conjectured to be Murch Brook, at whose mouth we had 
camped, all the time in woods, without having once seen the summit, and ris- 
ing very gradually, when the boatmen beginning to despair a little, and fear- 
ing that we were leaving the mountain on one side of us, for they had not 
entire faith in the compass, McCauslin climbed a tree, from the top of which 
he could see the peak, when it appeared that we had not swerved from a 
right line, the compass down below still ranging with his arm, which pointed to 
the summit. By the side of a cool mountain rill, amid the woods, where the 
water began to partake of the purity and transparency of the air, we stopped 
to cook some of our fishes, which we had brought thus far in order to save 
our hard bread and pork, in the use of which we had put ourselves on short 

17 



allowance. We soon had a fire blazing, and stood around it, under the damp 
and sombre forest of firs and birches, each with a sharpened stick, three or 
four feet in length, upon which he had spitted his trout, or roach, previously 
well gashed and salted, our sticks radiating like the spokes of a wheel from 
one centre, and each crowding his particular fish into the most desirable ex- 
posure, not with the truest regard always to his neighbor's rights. Thus we 
regaled ourselves, drinking meanwhile at the spring, till one man's pack, at 
least, was considerably lightened, when we again took up our line of march. 

At length we reached an elevation sufficiently bare to afford a view of 
the summit, still distant and blue, almost as if retreating from us. A torrent, 
which proved to be the same we had crossed, was seen tumbling down in 
front, literally from out of the clouds. But this glimpse at our whereabouts 
was soon lost, and we were buried in the woods again. The wood was 
chiefly yellow birch, spruce, fir, mountain-ash, or round-wood, as the Maine 
people call it, and moose-wood. It was the worst kind of traveling ; some- 
times like the densest scrub-oak patches with us. The cornel, or bunch- 
berries, were very abundant, as well as Solomon's seal and mooseberries. 
Blueberries were distributed along our whole route ; and in one place the 
bushes were drooping with the weight of the fruit, still as fresh as ever. It 
was the seventh of September. Such patches afforded a grateful repast, and 
served to bait the tired party forward. When any lagged behind, the cry of 
"blueberries " was most effectual to bring them up. Even at this elevation we 
passed through a moose-yard, formed by a large flat rock, four or five rods 
square, where they tread down the snow in winter. At length, fearing that if 
we held the direct course to the summit, we should not find any water near 
our camping-ground, we gradually swerved to the west, till, at four o'clock, we 
struck again the torrent which I have mentioned, and here, in view of the 
summit, the weary party decided to camp that night. 

While my companions were seeking a suitable spot for this purpose, I 
improved the little daylight that was left in climbing the mountain alone. We 
were in a deep and narrow ravine, sloping up to the clouds, at an angle of 
nearly forty-five degrees, and hemmed in by walls of rock, which were at first 
covered with low trees, then with impenetrable thickets of scraggy birches and 
spruce-trees, and with moss, but at last bare of all vegetation but lichens, and 
almost continually draped in clouds. Following up the course of the torrent 
which occupied this, — and I mean to lay some emphasis on this word up, — 
pulling myself up by the side of perpendicular falls of twenty or thirty feet, by 

19 



the roots of firs and birches, and then, perhaps, walking a level rod or two in 
the thin stream, for it took up the whole road, ascending by huge steps, as it 
were, a giant's stairway, down which a river flowed, 1 had soon cleared the 
trees, and paused on the successive shelves, to look back over the country. 
The torrent was from fifteen to thirty feet wide, without a tributary, and 
seemingly not diminishing in breadth as I advanced ; but still it came rushing 
and roarmg down, with a copious tide, over and amidst masses of bare rock, 
from the very clouds, as though a waterspout had just burst over the 
mountain. Leaving this at last, I began to work my way, scarcely less 
arduous than Satan's anciently through Chaos, up the nearest, though not the 
highest peak. At first scrambling on all fours over the tops of ancient black 
spruce-trees {Abies nigra), old as the flood, from two to ten or twelve feet in 
height, their tops flat and spreading, and their foliage blue, and nipped with 
cold, as if for centuries they had ceased growing upward against the bleak sky, 
the solid cold. I walked some good rods erect upon the tops of these trees, 
which were overgrown with moss and mountain-cranberries. It seemed that 
in the course of time they had filled up the intervals between the huge rocks, 
and the cold wind had uniformly leveled all over. Here the principal of vege- 
tation was hard put to it. There was apparently a belt of this kind running 
quite round the mountain, though, perhaps, nowhere so remarkable as here. 
Once slumping through, I looked down ten feet, into a dark and cavernous re- 
gion, and saw the stem of a spruce, on whose top I stood, as on a mass of 
coarse basket-work, fully nine inches in diameter at the ground. These holes 
were bears' dens, and the bears were even then at home. This was the sort 
of garden 1 made my way over, for an eighth of a mile, at the risk, it is true, 
of treading on some of the plants, not seeing any path through it, — certainly 
the most treacherous and porous country I ever traveled. 

" Nigh foundered on he fares. 
Treading the crude consistence, half on foot. 
Half flying. " 

But nothing could exceed the toughness of the twigs, — not one snapped under 
my weight, for they had slowly grown. Having slumped, scrambled, rolled, 
bounced, and walked, by turns, over this scraggy country, I arrived upon a side- 
hill, or rather side-mountain, where rocks, gray, silent rocks, were the flocks 
and herds that pastured, chewing a rocky cud at sunset. They looked at me 
with hard gray eyes, without a bleat or a low. This brought me to the skirt 
of a cloud, and bounded my walk that night. But I had already seen that 

21 



Maine country when I turned about, waving, flowing, rippling down below. 

When I returned to my companions, they had selected a camping-ground 
on the torrent's edge, and were resting on the ground ; one was on the sick 
list, rolled in a blanket, on a damp shelf of rock. It was a savage and dreary 
scenery enough ; so wildly rough, that they looked long to find a level and 
open space for the tent. We could not well camp higher, for want of fuel ; 
.and the trees here seemed so evergreen and sappy, that we almost doubted if 
they would acknowledge the influence of fire ; but fire prevailed at last, and 
blazed here, too, like a good citizen of the world. Even at this height we 
met with frequent traces of moose, as well as of bears. As there was no 
cedar, we made our bed of coarser feathered spruce ; but at any rate the 
feathers were plucked from the live tree. It was, perhaps, even a more grard 
and desolate place for a night's lodging than the summit would have been, 
being in the neighborhood of those wild trees, and of the torrent. Some more 
aerial and finer-spirited winds rushed and roared through the ravine all night, 
from time to time arousing our fire, and dispersing the embers about. It was as 
if we lay in the very nest of a young whirlwind. At midnight, one of my 
bed-fellows, being startled in his dreams by the sudden blazing up to its top of 
a fir-tree, whose green boughs were dried by the heat, sprang up, with a cry, 
from his bed, thinking the world on fire, and drew the whole camp after him. 

In the morning, after whetting our appetite on some raw pork, a wafer of 
hard bread, and a dipper of condensed cloud or waterspout, we all together 
began to make our way up the falls, which I have described ; this time 
choosing the right hand, or highest peak, which was not the one I had 
approached before. But soon my companions were lost to my sight behind 
the mountain ridge in my rear, which still seemed ever retreating before me, 
and I climbed alone over huge rocks, loosely poised, a mile or more, still 
edging toward the clouds ; for though the day was clear elsewhere, the 
summit was concealed by mist. The mountain seemed a vast aggregation of 
loose rocks, as if some time it had rained rocks, and they lay as they fell on 
the mountain sides, nowhere fairly at rest, but leaning on each other, all rock- 
ing stones, with cavities between, but scarcely any soil or smoother shelf. 
They were the raw materials of a planet dropped from an unseen quarry, 
which the vast chemistry of nature would anon work up, or work down, into 
the smiling and verdant plains and valleys of earth. This was an undone 
extremity of the globe ; as in lignite, we see coal in the process of formation. 

At length I entered within the skirts of the cloud which seemed forever 

23 



drifting over the summit, and yet would never be gone, but was generated out 
of tfial pure air as fast as it flowed away ; and when, a quarter of a mile 
farther. 1 reached the summit of the ridge, which those who have seen in 
clearer weather say is about five miles long, and contains a thousand acres of 
table-land. I was deep within the hostile ranlis of clouds, and all objects were 
obscured by them. Now the wind would blow me out a yard of clear sun- 
light, wherein I stood ; then a gray, dawning-light was all that it could ac- 
complish, the cloud-line ever rising and falling with the wind's intensity. 
Sometimes it seemed as if the summit would be cleared in a few moments, 
and smile in sunshine ; but what was gained on one side was lost on another. 
It was like sitting in a chimney and waiting for the smoke to blow away, it 
was. in fact, a cloud factory, these were the cloud-works, and the wind 
turned them off down from the cool, bare rocks. Occasionally, when the 
windy columns broke m to me, I caught sight of a dark, damp crag to the 
right or left ; the mist driving ceaselessly between it and me. It reminded me 
of the creations of the old epic and dramatic poets, of Atlas, Vulcan, the 
Cyclops, and Prometheus. Such was Caucasus and the rock where Pro- 
metheus was bound. /Eschylus had no doubt visited such scenery as this. It 
was vast, Titanic, and such as man never inhabits. Some part of the be- 
holder, even some vital part, seems to escape through the loose grating of his 
ribs as he ascends. He is more lone than you can imagine. There is less of 
substantial thought and fair understanding in him than in the plains where men 
inhabit. His reason is dispersed and shadowy, more thin and subtile, like the 
air. Vast, Titanic, inhuman Nature has got him at disadvantage, caught 
him alone, and pilfers him of some of his divine faculty. She does not smile 
on him as in the plains. She seems to say sternly. Why came ye here before 
your time. This ground is not prepared for you. Is it not enough that I 
smile in the valleys ? 1 have never made this soil for thy feel, this air for thy 
breathing, these rocks for thy neighbors. I cannot pity nor fondle thee here, 
but forever relentlessly drive thee hence to where 1 am kind. Why seek me 
where I have not called thee, and then complain because you find me but a 
stepmother? Shouldsl thou freeze or starve, or shudder thy life away, here is 
no shrine, nor altar, nor any access to my ear. 

"Chaos and ancient Night. I come no spy 
With i)ur|)ose to explore or to disturb 
The secrets of your rcalni, but 

as my way 
Lies through your spacious empire up to light." 

24 



The tops of mountains are among the unfinished parts of the globe, 
whither it is a slight insult to the gods to climb and pry into their secrets, and 
try their effect on our humanity. Only daring and insolent men, perchance, 
go there. Simple races, as savages, do not climb mountains, — their tops are 
sacred and mysterious tracts never visited by them. Pomola is always angry 
with those who climb to the summit of Ktaadn. 

According to Jackson, who, in his capacity of geological surveyor of the 
State, has accurately measured it,— the altitude of Ktaadn is 5300 feet, or a 
little more than one mile above the level of the sea, — and he adds, " It is then 
evidently the highest point in the State of Maine, and is the most abrupt 
granite mountain in New England." The peculiarities of that spacious table- 
land on which I was standmg, as well as the remarkable semi-circular precipice 
or basin on the eastern side, were all concealed by the mist. 1 had brought 
my whole pack to the top, not knowing but I should have to make my descent 
to the river, and possibly to the settled portion of the State alone, and by some 
other route, and wishing to have a complete outfit with me. But at length, 
fearing that my companions would be anxious to reach the river before night, 
and knowing that the clouds might rest on the mountain for days, I was com- 
pelled to descend. Occasionally, as I came down, the wind would blow me 
a vista open, through which I could see the country eastward, boundless 
forests, and lakes and streams, gleaming in the sun, some of them emptying 
into the East Branch. There were also new mountains in sight in that 
direction. Now and then some small bird of the sparrow family would Hit 
away before me, unable to command its course, like a fragment of the gray 
rock blown off by the wind. 

I found my companions where I had left them, on the side of the peak, 
gathering the mountain-cranberries, which filled every crevice between the 
rocks, together with blueberries, which had a spicier flavor the higher up they 
grew, but were not the less agreeable to our palates. When the country is 
settled, and roads are made, these cranberries will perhaps become an article 
of commerce. From this elevation, just on the skirts of the clouds, we could 
overlook the country, west and south, for a hundred miles. There it was, the 
State of Maine, which we had seen on the map, but not much like that, — 
immeasurable forest for the sun to shine on, that eastern stuff we hear of in 
Massachusetts. No clearing, no house. It did not look as if a solitary 
traveler had cut so much as a walking-stick there. Countless lakes, — 
Moosehead in the southwest, forty miles long by ten wide, like a gleaming 

25 



silver i)lattcr at the end of ihe table ; Chesuncook, eighteen long by three 
wide, without an island ; Millinocket, on the south, with its hundred islands ; 
and a hundred others without a name ; and mountains, also, whose names, for 
the most part, are known only to the Indians. The forest looked like a firm 
grass sward, and the effect of these lakes in its midst has been well compared, 
by one who has since visited this same spot, to that of a " mirror broken into a 
ihousand fragments, and wildly scattered over the grass, reflecting the full 
blaze of the sun." It was a large farm for somebody, when cleared. 
According to the Gazetteer, which was printed before the boundary question 
was settled, this single Penobscot county, in which we were, was larger than 
the whole State of Vermont, with its fourteen counties ; and this was only a 
part of the wild lands of Maine. We are concerned now, however, about 
natural, not political limits. We were about eighty miles, as the bird flies, from 
Bangor, or one hundred and fifteen, as we had ridden, and walked, and 
paddled. We had to console ourselves with the reflection that this view was 
probably as good as that from the peak, as far as it went ; and what were a 
mountain without its attendant clouds and mists ? Like ourselves, neither 
Bailey nor Jackson had obtained a clear view from the summit. 

Setting out on our return to the river, still at an early hour in llic day, we 
decided to follow the course of the torrent, which we supposed to be Murch 
Brook, as long as it would not lead us too far out of our way. We thus 
traveled about four miles in the very torrent itself, continually crossing and re- 
crossing it, leaping from rock to rock, and jumping with the stream down falls 
of seven or eight feet, or sometimes sliding down on our backs in a thin sheet 
of water. 1 his ravine had been the scene of an extraordinary freshet in the 
spring, ap|)arently accompanied by a slide from the mountain. It must have 
been filled with a stream of stones and water, at le:ist twenty feet above the 
present level of the torrent. lor a rod or two, on either side of its channel, 
the trees were barked and si)lintered up to their tops, the birches bent over, 
twisted, and sonietirnes finely split, like a stable-broom ; some, a foot in diam- 
eter, snap|)ed off, and whole clumps of trees bent over with the weight of 
rocks |)iled on them. In one place we noticed a rock, two or three feet in 
diameter, lodged nearly twenty feet high in the crotch of a tree. For the 
whole four miles, we saw but one rill emj)tying in, and the volume of water 
did not seem to be increased from the first. We traveled thus very rapidly 
with a downward impetus, and grew remarkably expert in leaping from rock 
to rock, lor jr.ip wi- must, .uid leap we dul. wlullici there was any rock at 

26 



the right distance or not. It was a pleasant picture when the foremost turned 
about and looked up the winding ravine, walled in with rocks and the green 
forest, to see, at intervals of a rod or two, a red-shirted or green-jacketed 
mountaineer against the white torrent, leaping down the channel with his pack 
on his back, or pausing upon a convenient rock in the midst of the torrent to 
mend a rent in his clothes, or unstrap the dipper at his belt to take a draught 
of the water. At one place we were startled by seeing, on a little sandy 
shelf by the side of the stream, the fresh print of a man's foot, and for a 
moment realized how Robinson Crusoe felt in a similar case ; but at last we 
remembered that we had struck this stream on our way up, though we could 
not have told where, and one had descended into the ravine for a drink. The 
cool air above and the continual bathing of our bodies m mountain water, 
alternate foot, sitz, douche, and plunge baths, made this walk exceedingly re- 
freshing, and we had traveled only a mile or two, after leaving the torrent, 
before every thread of our clothes was as dry as usual, owing perhaps to a 
peculiar quality in the atmosphere. 

After leaving the torrent, being in doubt about our course, Tom threw 
down his pack at the foot of the loftiest spruce-tree at hand, and shinned up the 
bare trunk some twenty feet, and then climbed through the green tower, lost to 
our sight, until he held the topmost spray in his hand. McCauslin, in his 
younger days, had marched through the wilderness with a body of troops, 
under General Somebody, and with one other man did all the scouting and 
spying service. The General's word was, " Throw down the top of that tree, 
and there was no tree in the Maine woods so high that it did not lose its top 
in such a case. I have heard a story of two men being lost once in these 
woods, nearer to the settlement than this, who climbed the loftiest pine they 
could find, some six feet in diameter at the ground, from whose top they dis- 
covered a solitary clearing and its smoke. When at this height, some two 
hundred feet from the ground, one of them became dizzy, and fainted in his 
companion's arms, and the latter had to accomplish the descent with him, 
alternately fainting and reviving, as best he could. To Tom we cried, Where 
away does the summit bear ? where the burnt lands ? The last he could 
only conjecture ; he descried, however, a little meadow and pond, lying 
probably in our course, which we concluded to steer for. On reaching this 
secluded meadow, we found fresh tracks of moose on the shore of the pond, 
and the water was still unsettled as if they had fled before us. A little farther, 
in a dense thicket, vve seemed to be still on their trail. It was a small 

27 



meadow, of a few acres, on the mountain side, concealed by the forest, and 
perhaps never seen by a white man before, where one would think that the 
moose might browse and bathe, and rest in peace. Pursuing this course, we 
soon reached the open land, which went sloping down some miles toward the 
Penobscot. 

Perhaps I most fully realized that this was primeval, untamed, and for- 
ever untamable Nature, or whatever else men call it, while coming down this 
part of the mountain. We were passing over " Burnt Land," burnt by 
lightning, perchance, though they showed no recent marks of fire, hardly so 
much as a charred stump, but looked rather like a natural pasture for the moose 
and deer, exceedingly wild and desolate, with occasional strips of timber cross- 
ing them, and low poplars springing up, and patches of blueberries here and 
there. 1 found myself traversing them familiarly, like some pasture run to waste, or 
partially reclaimed by man ; but wiien I reflected what man, what brother or 
sister or kinsman of our race made it and claimed it, I expected the proprietor 
to rise up and dispute my passage. It is difficult to conceive of a region unin- 
habited by man. We habitually presume his presence and influence every- 
where. And yet we have not seen pure Nature, unless we have seen her 
thus vast and drear and inhuman, though in the midst of cities. Nature was 
here something savage and awful, though beautiful. 1 looked with awe at the 
ground I trod on, to see what the Powers had made there, the form and 
fashion and material of their work. This was that Earth of which we have 
heard, made out of Chaos and Old Night. Here was no man's garden, but 
the unhandseled globe. It was not lawn, nor pasture, nor mead, nor wood- 
land, nor lea, nor arable, nor waste land. It was the fresh and natural surface 
o' the planet Earth, as it was made forever and ever, — to be the dwelling of 
man we say, — so Nature made it, and man may use it, if he can. Man was 
nol to be associated with it. It was Matter, vast, terrific, — not his Mother 
Earth that we have heard of, not for him to tread on, or be buried in, — no, 
it were being too familiar even to let his bones lie there, — the home, this, of 
Necessity and Fate. There was clearly felt the presence of a force not 
bound to be kind to man. It was a place for heathenism and superstitious 
rites, — to be inhabited by men nearer of kin to the rocks and to wild 
animals than we. We walked over it with a certain awe, stopping, from time 
to time, to pick the blueberries which grew there, and had a smart and spicy 
taste. Perchance where our wild pines stand, and leaves lie on their forest 
floor, in Concord, there were once reapers, and husbandmen planted grain ; 

29 



but here not even the surl.icc had hccri scaircu hy man, hut it was a specimen 
of what God saw lit to make this world. What is it to he admitted to a 
museum, to see a myriad of particular tilings, compared with being shown 
some star's surface, some hard matter in its home ! 1 stand in awe of my 
body, this matter to which 1 am bound has become so strange to me. I fear 
not spirits, ghosts, of which I am one, — ihaf my body might, but I fear 
bodies, 1 tremble to meet them. \\ hat is this I itan that has possession of 
me ? 1 alk of mysteries ! Think of our life in nature, — daily to be shown 
matter, to come in contact with it, — rocks, trees, wind on our cheeks ! the 
solid earth ! the actual world ! the common sense ! Contact ! Contact ! 
Who are we ? where are we ? 

Erelong we recognized some rocks and other features in the landscape 
which we had purposely impressed on our memories, and, quickening our 
pace, by two o'clock we reached the batteau. Here we had expected to 
dine on trout, but in this glaring sunlight they were slow to take the bait, so 
we were compelled to make the most of the crumbs of our hard bread and 
our pork, which were both nearly exhausted. Meanwhile we deliberated 
whether we should go up the river a mile farther, to Gibson's clearing, on the 
Sowadnehunk, where there was a deserted log-hut, in order to get a half- 
inch auger, to mend one of our spike-poles with. There were young spruce 
trees enough around us, and we had a spare spike, but nothing to make a hole 
with. But as it was uncertain whether we should find any tools left there, we 
patched up the broken pole, as well as we could, for the downward voyage, 
in which there would be but little use for it. Moreover, we were unwilling to 
lose any time in this expedition, lest the wind should rise before we reached the 
larger lakes, and detain us ; for a moderate wind produces quite a sea on 
these waters, in which a batteau will not live for a moment ; and on o.ie occa- 
sion McCauslin had been delayed a week at the head of the North Twin, 
wIirIi is only four miles across. We were nearly out of provisions, and ill 
prepared in this respect for what might possibly prove a week's journey round 
by the shore, fording innumerable streams, and threading a trackless forest, 
should any accident happen to our boat. 

It was with regret that we turned our backs on Chesuncook, which 
McCauslin had formerly lugged on, and the Allegash lakes. I here were still 
longer rapids and portages above ; among the last the Rippogenus Portage, 
which he described as the most diffuult on the river, and three miles long. 
The whole length of the Penobscot is two hundred and seventy-dve miles, and 

30 



we are still nearly one hundred miles from its source. Hodge, the assistant 
State Geologist, passed up this river in 1837, and by a portage of only one 
mile and three quarters crossed over into the Allegash, and so went down that 
into the St. John, and up the Madawaska to the Grand Portage across to the 
St. Lawrence. His is the only account that I know of an expedition through 
Canada in this direction. He thus describes his first sight of the latter river, 
which, to compare small things with great, is like Balboa's first sight of the 
Pacific from the mountains of the Isthmus of Darien. " When we first came 
in sight of the St. Lawrence, " he says, " from the top of a high hill, the view 
was most striking, and much more interesting to me from having been shut up 
in the woods for the two previous months. Directly before us lay the broad 
river, extending across nine or ten miles, its surface broken by a few islands 
and reefs, and two ships riding at anchor near the shore. Beyond, extended 
ranges of uncultivated hills, parallel with the river. The sun was just going 
down behind them, and gilding the whole scene with its parting rays." 

About four o'clock, the same afternoon, we commenced our return voy- 
age, which would require but little if any poling." 







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l^lFt Af De-BSCOHHAG 



The Debsconeag Outing Camps 

are conducted as a public outing resort. Located near Mt. Ktaadn, in Piscat- 
aquis County, Maine, and were formerly owned by the Debsconeag Fish & 
Game Club. They are known also as Garland's Camps. They will continue 
to be under the popular and efficient management of Mr. C. C. Garland, who 
first established and conducted these camps for the club. 

Home Camps. 

The Home Camps, or principal camps of this group, are located on the 
north shore of First Debsconeag Lake facing south. These consist of a gen- 
eral camp containing an assembly room, formerly the Club-house, and a 
separate dining-room and kitchen building, several sleeping lodges or small 
cottages arranged for parties and families, and tents having board floors and log 
walls upon which the tent rests, making the combined walls about six to 
seven feet in height. These camps are substantially and comfortably built of 
peeled logs and have commodious covered piazzas. All these camps are kept 
immaculately clean and are comfortably furnished with spring beds, mattresses, 
clean linen and bedding, easy chairs and open Franklin stoves. 

The floors of the tents extend to form a commodious piazza, which, with 
the tent proper, is covered with a large fly, protecting the tent from both the 
sun and rain. These tents are furnished with spring beds, easy chairs, and 
toilet articles the same as the cottages. They have become most popular and 
are as much sought after as the private camps. All tents and camps give 
privacy to ladies. The sanitation about these premises is carefully looked after. 

Bathing. 

Excellent sand beaches near by afford good facilities for an invigorating 

bath in the crystal waters of Debsconeag. The greater percentage of the 

camps' guests resort to these beaches daily. Be sure to take your bathing 
suit with you. 

33 



tefc 



Canoeing. 

Canoeing facilities could be no better and tlie variety and beauty of 
scenery cannot be surpassed. 

f'robably there is no place in Maine where so many different canoe and 
fishing trijjs and daily picnic excursions can be taken as from Debsconeag. 

The Table. 

I o set a table unefjualled in the Maine woods, serving in season all the 
delicacies of forest and stream, is the aim of the management. This camp has 
its own vegetable garden and hennery and draws lilxially from the Bangor 
markets. 

To those persons tired and worn out frf)m business cares, recovering from 
pneumonia, having nervous prostration, bronchial or catarrhal troubles, insomnia, 
constipation, stomach troubles, hay fever (unknown at Debsconeag), pleurisy, 
or needing a change from any course, we offer special advantages, and solicit 
correspondence regarding the same. 1 o such, our table will be found 
attractive. 

No alcoholics or tuberculous patients, or any person who would be 
objectionable to other guests, will be entertained at these camps. The atmos- 
phere at Debsconeag will be found cool, dry and bracing. The spring water 
IS absolutely pure and soft and many persons are greatly benefitted by its use. 
It comes to the table clear as crystal, cool as ice water, from a near-by cave. 

Fishing. 

No part of Maine has as great a variety of fishing, as is here found in 
something like 30 lakes and ponds within a radius of three miles of the Home 
Camps. Trout being especially abundant. Large numbers of gamy Lake 
I rout are taken in front of these camps, in First Debsconeag Lake, many 
weighing from 12 to 20 [)ounds and measuring three feet in length. 

Rainbow Lake Camps. 

1 he Rainbow Lake Camps consist of a large two story main camp in 
which IS the diriiiig-room and kitchen, and two separate log sleeping lodges. 

I (Ills are also used during the warm months. I loretofoie these camps 
have been used as outl\ing cam|w ; this season they will be run lnc^ependent 
of the home camps and will be in charge of a competent man and his wife, 
who will cater to the roiiilorl of their guests. 

34 



Canoes are kept here for rental to guests at the rate of fifty cents per 
day. 

At Rainbow, one can come closer in touch with nature, with the usual 
discomforts eliminated, than at any far distant camp in the Maine woods. 
The beds are of woven wire, piled high with fresh-picked fir, fragrant with 
the breath of the forest. The menu contains just such articles as are closely 
associated with primitive forest life, but which are cooked in a manner superior 
to that of the average woodsman. One's fishing may be done comfortably 
from the mammoth rocks on the lake shore, from canoes or from a large log 
float anchored near by the camps for that purpose. 

Rainbow Lake is an ideal location for either a permanent stay or for a 
few days' side trip from the main camps at Debsconeag. The distance from 
these is about six miles, but one-half of it is made by water, the balance being 
over well cleared trails. In traveling between these camps, four lakes and 
ponds are traversed, on each of which are kept relays of canoes, thus render- 
ing carrying of canoes unnecessary. The average person can make the trip in 
three hours. 

Rainbow Lake's Famous Trout. 

In Rainbow Lake, five miles long by a mile wide, there are more square- 
tailed trout than m any other body of water of the same size in the country. 
The bottom is covered with great boulders, from beneath which bubble the 
springs from which the lake is fed, and in the interstices of which the trout 
hide. 

It IS one of the most unique sights to lower a bait toward one of these 
rocky formations. For a moment there is not a fish to be seen ; then from a 
dozen crevices the trout come flashing toward the surface, each anxious to 
secure the coveted morsel. A few seconds after, every trout has again dis- 
appeared, save those struggling at the leader, and so wonderfully clear is the 
water that they may be distinctly seen at a depth of 40 feet. 

It may seem exaggeration to say that " square-tailed " or " brook trout " 
(Salmo fontinalis) may be taken at any time in this lake at any time, day or 
night ; but one has only to try to be convinced. 

Unlike trout in general, those at Rainbow take the fly in the warmest 
weather, and bite well at all seasons, chiefly during the mornings and evenings. 
These fish make a strenuous fight when hooked, are firm in flesh, light pink 
in color, and will be found of a delicious flavor. They vary in size from one- 
quarter pound to five pounds, 

35 




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V *.. 1 



F^AiNe>ow Camp 



Ktaadn Camp. 

Close to the Southwest Slide trail, near the timber line, leading up 
Ktaadn, is a finely constructed and comfortable camp, another of this group, 
built especially for the use of our guests wishing to climb the mountain. This 
camp is kept furnished with cooking utensils and blankets, but not with sup- 
plies. The latter are toted by the guides accompanying each party. 

By a measurement made in 1 906, the height of Mt. Ktaadn at West 
Peak, its highest point, is 5268 feet above the sea. 

Making the ascent of Ktaadn is a feature of a stay at Debsconeag, this 
being the nearest point of departure. {The management will make special 
arrangements to tal^e parties from their homes to the mountain and return 
arranging all details and paying all bills, for a fixed sum.) Probably the best 
route upon the mountain is over the Abol-Ktaadn stream trail. The distance, 
via the West Branch, from Debsconeag to the foot of the trail is about six 
miles. Parties visiting the mountain should plan on taking three days from 
Debsconeag. The first day the Ktaadn camp should be made ; the second 
day, visit the top of the mountain and return to the Ktaadn camp ; and the 
third day, return to the home camps. By carrying out this program, haste at 
no time need be made, and the trip will be found a comparatively easy one. 
Ktaadn stream along the mountain trail may be fished on both the first and 
third days if one is so inclined. 

Hurd Pond 

(more properly a lake) is one mile north of the home camps ; is about two miles 
wide by three miles long. Its waters are wonderfully clear ; is well stocked 
with trout, lake trout, and some good sized landlocked salmon are here taken. 
On the shore of the lake, about three miles from Debsconeag, we have for 
the convenience of our guests a small outlying camp. Here one can spend 
the day or a few days by taking supplies from the home camp. 

Guide Laws. 

Non-residents of the State of Maine are not allowed to enter upon the 
wild lands of the State and camp, or kindle fires thereon, while engaged in 
climbing or fishing without being in charge of a registered guide during the 
months of May, June, July, August, September, October and November, but 
// is not necessary for a non-resident to employ a guide, prodded he is 
stopping with the omner of a "Registered Camp" and does not camp, or 
kindle fires, '^hese camps are registered camps. 

37 



Rates and Accommodations. 

Persons wishing to visit Debsconeag and other camps, will do well to 
write early for accommodations. Rates of board and lodging, $14.00 per 
week and upwards. Guides' board at the Home Camps, $1.50 per day. 
Rates at Rainbow Lake Camps, a uniform rate of $2.00 per day. Guides' 
wages are $3.00 per day and their board ; this rate includes the use of one 
canoe. 

Canoes and boats may be hired at the rate of fifty cents per day or three 
dollars per week. A supply of standard rods and fishing tackle, moccasins, 
heavy wool Maine socks, cigars and tobacco, eire kept for sale at the Home 
Camps, so that one leaving home on short notice is sure to find here all he 
may need for his comfort and pleasure on arrival. To these camps, guests 
may bring their own guides, canoes and outfits, or, upon proper notice, the 
manager will supply guides, and all, or any part of an outfit, including tents and 
canoes. 

Reliable registered guides make their headquarters at these camps. 

Camera. 

You should not fail to take your camera and plenty of films with you, 
that you may carry home pleasant memories of the picturesque scenery and 
of live game so plentiful in this region. 

Baggage. 

Visitors to these camps should avoid bringing heavy baggage. Grips 
and bags are preferable to trunks and are less expensive to transport. Trunks 
may be left at the South Twin House and contents there transferred to grips, 
bags, or telescope cases. 

How to get there. 

Buy tickets to South Twin, Maine. A through sleeper leaves Boston 
ua Boston & Maine, Maine Central and Bangor & Aroostook R. R., about 
7.00 P. M., and arrives at South Twin about 6.00 o'clock the following 
morning. The last train leaving Boston arrives at South Twin about 1 0.00 
o'clock the next morning, but the sleeper is switched off at Milo Junction, hence 
we recommend taking the train leaving Boston about 7.00 P. M. This gives 
ample time to make any shifts of outfit before taking the steamer, which leaves 
South Twin, after the arrival of the train from the west, about 1 0.00 A. M. 

39 



APR 22 1907 

(Trains only stop at South Twin on siKnal, or notice to the conductor on 
the train.) 

The South I win I louse is located at South I win, wlicre one s trunks and 
heavy baggage may be left during his slay in the woods. 

Steamers operated by Capt. Pearl S. Willey, who handles our business 
on the lakes, start from South Twin daily except Sunday, about 10.30 
A. M. after the arrival of the train from the west, for Ambejijis, return- 
ing in season for [)assengers to take the afternoon train for the west. At 
Ambejijis these steamers are met daily, Sunday excepted, by competent 
employees of these camps with canoes or boats to carry passengers and their 
baggage to Debsconeag. 

The "Debsconeag" post office is located at the Home Camps, which is 
also a U. S. Weather Bureau Station. Mail arrives and departs daily, except 
Sunday. 

The nearest express and telegraph office is South Twin. 

Correspondence is solicited and will receive prompt attention. Address 
all communications to C. C. Garland, Manager, Debsconeag, Piscataquis 
County, Maine. 




V • ;i; v'^ 



40 



The shortest, quickest, only direct route to 





THE GREAT FOREST 
RECREATION REGION 
OF NORTHERN MAINE 



Solid vestibuled trains. Pullman sleeping and parlor cars. Dining 
cars. Strictly modem equipment and service throughout. 



"In The Maine Woods" 

Our 1907 Guidebook 

offering most attractive news and views oi northern Maine's famous 
fishing, hunting and recreation region — a book of 1 92 pages with 
over 100 actual Maine woods scenes — mailed for 15 cents in 
stamps. Address 

GEO. M. HOUGHTON, 

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